


Spellbound In His Arms

by Cozy_coffee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Blood Kink, Bottom Dean Winchester, Community: spnkink_meme, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Painplay, Power Play, Scratching, Sexual Content, Strangulation, Top Sam Winchester, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-18
Updated: 2009-09-18
Packaged: 2018-09-20 11:36:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9489305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozy_coffee/pseuds/Cozy_coffee
Summary: A fill for the spnkink_meme prompt; Dean/Sam, bottom!Dean, powerplay, In order to make up for the power Sam feels after drinking demon blood, Dean lets Sam have total power over him. Do what you want.





	

Dean needs this room. He may not crave the torment, but the outcome is worth the pain. Knowing he is keeping others, and his brother, safe encouraged him to kneel and let go of everything that sets his weary mind on edge. He bows his head and gives his body to Sam. Sam need the control, needs to make Dean cry and scream and writhe in pure agony. 

He takes in a deep breath, holds it, and lets it go. Everything about this room is tolerable. He is strong enough to withstand the riding crop blistering his skin, the silver handcuffs keeping him at the mercy of his brother. The tears and whimpers are worth it in the end. The leather stings and snarls across his skin. Pale becomes crimson. A sharp intake of breath followed by a strangled-gasping cry, wet glistening tears trickling down his cheeks and he is whimpering for more—not because he wants it—but because Sam needs it. 

“Did you enjoy that, slut?” Sam asked as he circled his brother, his moments as graceful and predatory as a black panther. “Did you enjoy being punished?”

Dean didn’t say anything, only grunted and nodded as best as he could. He was lying on his stomach on the floor of the motel, naked and bleeding. His back was tattooed with jagged wounds from the belt whipping he had just endured at the hand of his brother. He could stop this, end it all right here and now, but he didn’t want to. Not because he enjoyed the pain or liked being his brother’s play toy, but because he loved his sibling and wanted to keep him safe. 

He couldn’t remember the precise moment it all started but he could remember the exact reason why he let Sam treat him like this. In order to make up for the power that his brother felt after drinking demon blood, Dean had surrendered all of his control to Sam. In doing so, Sam no longer felt inferior, but strong and superior. He got to have all the power he ever wanted and he had complete control over Dean. He decided everything for his brother—when he ate, when he slept and even when he went to the bathroom. 

At first, it was humiliating to Dean and he was tempted to put an end to it, but then he remembered how he’d treated Sammy. He remembered locking his brother up like an animal and sitting at the panic room door, listening to Sam as he cried and screamed through his withdrawal.

Dean just couldn’t do that anymore. He couldn’t stand by and watch his baby brother suffer. So he made his choice and—as messed up as the situation was—it worked best for them both. Sam got to have the power he craved and Dean got to keep his brother safe, human. That was all that mattered to the older Winchester. 

The belt struck Dean’s upper back again and he grunted, biting his lips so as not to scream. Sam didn’t like it when he screamed. He lay there panting and grunting, sounding like a beast in heat. 

He heard the belt drop and he braced himself, awaiting a kick to the ribs, like the night before. But that didn’t happen. Instead, Sam knelt and sat right across the back of Dean’s thighs. He placed his hands at the top his brother’s back and raked his blunt nails down the torn flesh, opening up the wounds more and igniting a broken whimper from the other hunter. 

“Shh,” Sam purred, his voice soft and deep. “Hush, whore. I didn’t tell you to make a sound. Did I?”

Dean shook his head and Sam hummed his approval. Leaning forward, the youngest Winchester lapped at the blood several times then nipped at the abused flesh. He did it over and over again, licking and sucking down the sweet, tangy treat. It wasn’t demon blood—but it was still delicious. 

As Sam kept up his ministrations, Dean stayed perfectly still and quiet, hoping maybe this would be it for the night. He prayed his sibling would drink down his fill and be satisfied, allowing him to sleep off the pain that was coursing through his body. 

Dean was not so lucky. As Sam licked and nipped at the wounds, his tongue snaking back and forth over the slick flesh, he began to roll his hips, grinning lightly against his brother’s naked ass. Dean could feel the heat and thickness of his brother cock through the thin layer of his boxers. He could feel how hard Sammy was and he knew how this night would end. He closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the pain soon to come. 

Once Sam had drunk his fill, he grabbed his brother by the hair and pulled hard, forcing Dean’s spine to bow backwards. Dean was unable to stop the curse that spilled from his lips and he instantly expected Sam to punish him for it. Instead, Sam leaned forward and kissed his cheek gently, his lips soft against the warm flesh. “S-Sammy...”

“Get on the bed, Dean,” Sam ordered. “Lay down on your back and don’t move. You understand me?”

Dean licked his cracked lips and replied, “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.” With that, Sam released him and Dean scrambled up off the floor and onto the bed. He lay down and spread his legs, wincing as the rough sheets scraped against his blistered back. He watched as Sam yanked off his boxers and t-shirt before retrieving the belt. 

Sam climbed onto the bed and straddled his sibling’s waist, his heated gaze lingering on Dean. He smiled lustfully and held the belt up for Dean to see. Dean’s eyes fixed on the belt as his heart began to pound wildly in his chest. He didn’t move or make a sound; only watched as Sam slipped the belt around his throat, slid it through the ring and curled it around his hand. 

Sam pulled on it quickly, forcing the leather to tighten. Dean hands flew up to his brother’s hips, holding on in a wordless plea. He knew he could stop this, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. He closed his eyes and felt the belt tighten more and more, the air in his lungs leaving by the second.

Black spots began to dance behind his eyelids and the threat of unconsciousness began to pull at him. His instincts told him to fight—to struggle and resist—but he ignored them. He lay there and let Sam continue to pull the belt tighter, the darkness creeping up on him with each passing moment. His breath rushed out of his lungs, leaving them burning with a white hot pain. He couldn’t breathe and the darkness was rising faster. It began to consume his world and he did nothing to stop it, only allowed it to wash over him and pull him under. 

When he awoke, he found he’d been turned onto his stomach. His mind was still foggy and it took him a moment to realize what was going on. It became clear when he felt his brother cock, hot and heavy, sliding in and out of him slowly. A sharp fiery pain radiated through him and he buried his face in the covers, wincing as he felt the burn of Sam’s thrust. He could feel the slick, stickiness inside him and he knew it was blood—his blood. This wasn’t the first time Sam had failed to prep him. His little brother had torn him open on a few occasions. 

As with all the times before, Dean lay still and silent, forcing himself to relax. His resolve to remain silent didn’t last long; the pleasurable drag across his prostate caused him to betray himself with a low, broken whimper. 

“Hush, Dean,” Sam commanded, his fingers gripping Dean’s hips harder as he continued to thrust into his brother. “Behave, and take it like a good little bitch.” Dean squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, silencing the cries that threatened to come out. He grabbed the sheets in a death grip and bit his lip harder, drawing blood as his brother sped up and brutally doubled his pace. 

Sam didn’t finish with him quickly; he rode Dean for moments that stretched on and on. He grunted and moaned, his nails digging in and breaking the tender flesh of Dean’s hip. Over and over again he thrust into Dean, burying himself deeper with every measurable grind of his hips. Finally, pleasure consumed Sam and he came hard, crying out Dean’s name as ecstasy washed over him. Once all was calm, Sam pulled out and flipped Dean over onto his back. He grabbed his brother’s shaft in a death like grip, and Dean cried out as Sam began to jerk him off roughly. Sam got him off in moments and he came so hard he blacked out. 

When he woke again, he was laying in his brother’s arms. Sam was kissing his forehead and petting him, his large hands lovingly trailing through his short locks. Mentally and physically exhausted, Dean snuggled close to Sam’s warm body and buried his face in the cradle of his neck. Sam smiled and pulled his brother closer before placing another kiss to his forehead. He held Dean tightly with loving, possessive arms.

“I love you, Dee,” Sam whispered, his voice sounding like that of a child’s. “I love you so much.”

Dean snuggled closer and kissed Sam’s neck. “Love you too, Sammy.”

He did. As fucked up as the situation was, he still loved his little brother with all of his heart and soul. Dean would withstand any amount of Hell, as long as his brother was safe. 

♥ END ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Beta; GLIMMERELLA 
> 
> [Written for this prompt!](https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/4278.html?thread=2184374#t2184374)


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